


Homecoming.

by secretlyryanross



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-12 03:37:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5651116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlyryanross/pseuds/secretlyryanross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Vote Brendon for Homecoming King 2006!'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's He Doing At Our Table?

It is said that when you’re first born, you cry because the world is colder than your mothers womb. I believe, however, that when you’re born you cry because you can just sense how shitty the world around you is going to be in, oh...17 years or so. 

Which is what leads me, George Ryan Ross III (known as Ryan by my friends and freak to pretty much everyone else), to believe that Brendon Urie did not cry when he was ejected from his mother's womb.

Brendon Urie is the most popular guy in school, right next to Jon Walker. He gets everything handed to him, life served on a silver platter. Not the fake silver that my dad and I eat with, either. He’s in band, advanced everything, is a member of the Random Acts of Kindness club, writes for the newspaper, but still maintains his popularity and his honor student average to a ‘T.’ It’s like he’s fucking blessed or something. Hell, even the punk kids like him because of his broad taste in music. 

Then, there’s me. I’m secretary of the Gay Straight Alliance, the club that even Brendon doesn’t step foot near. I only have perfect grades in English and English electives. I’m failing math, let alone science and history. My only friends are Spencer Smith and Brent Wilson, but even Brent only ever sits with us at lunch, because everyone fucking hates us. I’m a grade A whiner to top all of that off, and when I say my home life isn't great, I really do mean it.

Brendon Urie has nothing to do, talking to me. The only words he's ever said to me were 'sorry' and 'do you have a pen?' So it definitely comes as a surprise when one day, out of the blue, I walk into the cafeteria to see none other than Brendon Urie talking to Spencer Smith. Well, more so talking directly to a growing bitch face, but that’s basically Spencer’s middle name. 

“Spencer…” I say, not bothering to listen to the conversation at hand before budding in. He looks to me, narrowing his eyes. 

“Why don’t you talk to him yourself, Urie?” Spencer practically barks, causing my eyebrows to shoot up into my hairline. What is he doing, he knows I hate this kid! I throw a quick look of panic to my best friend, clenching my jaw tightly. 

“Thanks, Spencer, I will.” Brendon smiles at Spencer, his happy mood somehow still on his face. What the hell was this kid hiding, how could he still be happy after Spencer practically killed him with his death glare?

“Uh,” I stumble, not looking at him in the eyes. Instead, I look at my feet, taking note of how dirty my converse were.

“So, Ryan, as you’re the secretary of the Gay Straight Alliance, I decided maybe I should talk to you first about this,” Brendon chips, handing me a flier. Or, more so, shoving a flier into my hands. I look down at it, wary gaze falling upon a flier with Brendon’s face on it. It was silver and black, with mixed bits of pink, and had big block letters encircling his face. 

‘Vote Brendon for Homecoming King 2006!’

I scoff, shoving the flier back at him, “You expect me to get the entire GSA to vote for you when you’ve never had anything to do with us?" I roll my eyes, "Hell, I mean, even a pride parade participation would’ve been better than the shit nothing you’ve done for us!” Sighing, I taking a seat at my lunch table. Who does he even think he is? If he didn't piss me off beforehand, well, he sure as fuck did now. 

"But-" He tries to speak, but I cut him off.

“Will you stop?” I ask, my agitated expression clearly showing. I try to advert my attention, studying Spencer's expression as he texts somebody, his phone hidden away from the teachers on lunch duty. It was probably his mom, but you never really know with Spencer. It could be his therapist.

“No, I will not stop, not until you agree to help me.” Brendon chides, breaking me from my thoughts, “And if you don't, then how can I get you to help me? I’ll do anything.”

Normally, nothing could change my opinion, but this catches my attention, causing me to turn around and meet his eyes. He looks like he’s being honest, so I take a bargain, “Alright, I’ll help-”

“Yes, thank you so much!” He interrupts, his smile growing. I have to shake my head as he starts to jump up and down. 

“On one condition!” I hissed, causing him to look back at me, nodding over exaggeratedly. I grit my teeth. How annoying could this kid be?

“Yes, anything.”

“Okay, then,” I concur, glancing over to Spencer, “You have to try your damned hardest to, instead of there being a traditional Homecoming Queen and King, have there be two Homecoming Kings!” I finish, looking back at Brendon. Out of my peripherals I see Spencer's head shoot up, causing me to smirk.

He looks at me like I’m crazy, his expression falling, “That’s impossible, nobody will vouch for that! Half of the school population are girls who would want to be Queens!” He blurts, a dire expression on his face. I just scoff.

“Then no deal, Brendon.” Shaking my head once more, I turn back around and draw my phone out of my pocket. Though, there wasn't really anything I could do on here, really, so I'm not too sure why I got it out. Maybe I could play games...

“No, Ryan, please. I’ll try, okay? I can’t promise anything, though, this school isn’t exactly-”

“For gays, I know.” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. I obviously knew that, seeing as I sit at a table with two people and one of them hadn’t even bothered to show up for lunch today. I throw a grim look at Spencer, then look back to find Brendon gone. So much for that, I guess. 

“Do you really think he’ll do it?” Spencer pipes up, looking at me with an unreadable expression. I shrug, putting my phone back in my pocket.

“I don’t know, probably not. You can’t ever tell with Brendon Urie, can you? I’m not gonna talk to the GSA about it until I hear word back.” I theorized, biting the dead skin off my lips in anxiousness. There was something about this whole thing that doesn’t seem like it’s going to go well. I decide to keep that to myself, instead talking to Spencer about the dog I’d found on my way home yesterday. 

That conversation lasts about three and a half minutes before Spencer is back to looking at that damned phone of his. You'd think he actually had friends if he weren't sitting alone...with me. I contemplate this for a while, before shaking it off and looking back around the lunch room. I find that I'm looking for Brendon, only to find him with his arm around Jon Walker, who's laughing with a mouth full of food. How he can actually eat what they serve here is a mystery, though some say he's part dog. Whatever that means...

I notice Brendon's gaze flicker over here for a second, before he quickly looks away, as if he'd never looked at all. I shake my head, my tongue darting out to wet my lips as I let out a sigh of a laugh. Out of the three years I've observed Brendon, he's always been great at looking like he's composed, but I'm sure that if you said just the right thing his whole facade would come crumbling down. That was my goal of high school, other than graduating. Break Brendon Urie's facade before Senior year. It'd be tough, but I've done calculus, so it couldn't be harder than that.

"Hey, Spence," I pipe up, a slight smile on my face. Spencer looks up, a neutral expression on his face. "Wanna make a bet?"

A grin grows onto Spencer's face, "Depends. Does it have to do with Brendon?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, sure, what kind of bet?" 

I chew on my tongue for a bit, maintaining eye contact with Spencer, before answering, "I bet you that I can break his stupid little act he has going on before the end of this year."

"Hm...what're you betting?" He tilts his head, bringing a hand up to rest it on. I hum, mulling it over. 

"If you win, then I'll do your English homework for the rest of the school year. If I win, however, you have to finally stop being such a pussy and ask Jon to be your homecoming date." I decide, pushing my bangs out of my eyes and nodding in finality. 

"That's hardly fair, Ryan, but...deal." He lets out a dry chuckle, "There's absolutely no way you're going to break Brendon Urie, so you might as well as start doing my English now." 

"Oh, you just wait, Smith." I muse, throwing him an award winning smile just as the bell for fourth period goes off, Spencer and I going our separate ways. As I enter my class, I sit my bag down, grab my notebook out along with a pen. On the first clean page I see, I begin to write, smiling once I finish. 

'Ryan Ross' to-do list:  
1\. Break Brendon Urie.'


	2. What Do You Mean By Bet?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter isn't that great, for some reason I can't quite pin-point. I'll try to make the next chapter better, promise.

It had been about a week since Brendon had last talked to me. Which didn’t come as much of a surprise, but it did make me slightly curious to whether or not he was staying true to our deal. After all, Homecoming was getting closer, and the absence of Brendon’s voice just meant that he probably wouldn’t get the GSA’s votes in time. No skin off my back. 

Everyday since the day he’d interrupted my lunch sulking session had been rather mundane. Spencer was constantly on his phone, Brent barely showed up for lunch, and I updated whoever was there to listen on that dog, who I’d decided to name Hobo, for the reason of how grungy she looked. As well as that, Brendon always sat in his same spot across the lunchroom, right next to Jon and his other best friend, Dallon.

Now, today, as I sat at lunch, casually glancing at Brendon’s table, I decide to finally put together a plan on how exactly I was gonna destroy Brendon’s facade. I grab my notebook from my bag, and a pen from my pocket, before starting to think. There wasn’t a sure way to tell if anything would work, because I’d yet to figure out what makes Brendon tremble. So everything was pretty much pointless. Besides, how was this plan even going to work if he didn’t talk to me?

“Stop chewing on your pen.” Spencer scolds, startling me. I drag the pen away from my mouth, looking at the numerous bite marks on the end. “Having trouble with your math or something, what’s that out for?” He points to my notebook, looking at me with sceptical eyes.

“Uh, no,” I sigh, “I’m, uh, trying to think of a plan for our bet…” Spencer smirks at this, snatching the pen and notebook from me. I’m about to protest, but he throws me a glare before I can. I watch as he writes on the paper, a frown on my face. He hands it back to me when he’s done, and I look at what he wrote. 

‘Do Spencer’s English and admit defeat,’ is written in messy handwriting, the over exaggerated letters staring up at me. 

“You wish, Smith.” I bark back, clenching my jaw tightly. 

“Funny, last time I checked wishes weren’t reality.” Spencer laughs, the cocky son of a bitch, before his eyes move to the left of me. “Speak of the devil.” 

I turn, a blush scattering across my features as I notice Brendon walking this way. Quickly I turn back to Spencer, pleading eyes looking at him. He shrugs, smirking at me and I take a quick breath preparing myself for what was to come. 

“Hey Ryan, Spencer.” He greets and I glance at him. It was no lie that Brendon was...pretty...but his personality was almost repulsive to me. How stuck up he was and how much he acted like he knew everything. Maybe I was a little jealous of his life, but you can go to hell if you think I’m jealous of his personality. 

“Brendon,” Spencer greets, giving him a curt smile. I send him an incredulous look, but he doesn’t meet my eye.

“So…” Brendon continues, sending a weird look between Spencer and I, “I totally did it!” Looking back at him, I can’t help but let my jaw drop. No way. He’s bulshitting me, no way!

“No way!” I voice, but Brendon nods, “How?”

“Well,” Brendon begins, biting his lower lip in an almost nervous manner, “I brought up the idea at first and everyone sorta shot it down, but then I told them that it was a, uh...a bet.”

“A bet?!” A scoff, “What kind of ‘bet’, Brendon?” I clench my jaw, making hand quotation marks around the word bet. There was a strange, sinking feeling in my stomach, that made me feel almost sick. 

“I made a bet that I could get you to be homecoming king with me and, uh...dump you on the night of it, in front of everyone…” He rushes, and the feeling in my stomach continues to grow. I wonder how upset I had to look right now, as I stared at Brendon and he stared back.

Spencer clears his throat, but I don’t look over. I even think I hear him talking, but all I can hear are my own thoughts. What has this absolute fucking idiot gotten me into? Brendon Urie, before last week, had never had anything to do with me. He barely said two words to me, hehad never batted an eye at me, and now he was planning on making me his pretend boyfriend, his pretend king, and I could never have been more pissed off. 

“Ryan. Ryan. Ryaaan.” I blink, seeing now that Spencer was in the seat that Brendon was in just moments ago, his fingers in my face, snapping continuously. "Ry-"

“Get your fingers out of my face, Spence.” I sigh, grabbing a hold of his wrist and moving it from my line of sight. 

“Are you okay, Ry?” He asks, seeming genuinely concerned. I look at him, then look around for Brendon only to see that he was back at his table, laughing along with something one of his friends had said once again. 

“What do you think? I’m going to be made fun of in front of the student body.” I shake my head, letting out a grim laugh. 

“What?! No, you don’t have to do it, Ryan, you really don’t. I’ll even call off our bet, come on.” Spencer almost seems like he’s pleading, but I just roll my eyes. He doesn’t get it. 

“I do have to, Spencer. I have to because it’s an opportunity for the first ever gay homecoming couple! It’s for the better of the GSA and, even though I’m really going to regret it,” I look down, then back up, “it’s for the better of any closeted gay kids, too.” By the end of my mantra, Spencer seems to understand, his head bobbing back and forth as he nods. His lips are in a tight line and his eyes are focused on the table, but I can tell he was listening. It’s just what Spencer does. 

“If you really want to do it, Ry, then I can’t stop you. But I am gonna have your back the whole time, you idiot.” Spencer chuckles, punching me in the shoulder lightly. I smile at him, glad that he’s gonna be there for me.

“Now, what happened while I spaced out?” 

“I kind of told Brendon to fuck off...and, um, he did.” Spencer rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, looking at me apologetically. I just laugh. 

“Good, he deserves that for what he’s gonna make me go through.” I roll my eyes, heaving a sigh and then retrieving my phone out of my pocket. I eye the time, then look up at Spencer, telling him it’s about time to go. 

“Do you have any classes with him, Spence?” I ask suddenly. Spencer is silent for a moment, before he nods. 

“He’s in the newspaper with me, so I have Journalism with him.” I think about this for a second before telling Spencer what I need to have him do.

“Tell him,” The bell rings overhead, causing me to pause, “that we have a deal.” I stand up, gathering my notebook off the table and grabbing my bag, stuffing it into the torn fabric haphazardly. 

Spencer goes around the table, grabbing his bag as well before responding, “Alright, will do.”

“Thanks.” I say, before going my separate way. The entirety of my next class I can’t help but not pay attention, instead just staring at the papers that are handed to me. I needed to focus on what I was going to do to play Brendon’s little game more than I needed to focus on the equations in front of me. 

‘Ryan Ross’ to-do list:  
1\. Break Brendon Urie.  
2\. Don’t let Brendon Urie break you.’


End file.
